You Will Get to Your Nibbāna

Mirissa, Sri Lanka — December 31, 2025. 7 AM

I woke up early, around 7 AM. The sun was already up, but the village was still quiet — that rare kind of quiet that exists before the world fully wakes up.

A few locals were moving through the streets. A peacock landed on the roof of a neighboring building — unfortunately, not opening his tail, though still graceful and beautiful. I had planned to walk to the beach. Watch the waves. Observe the early-bird surfers. Morning is the best time for that — before the tourists arrive, before the noise, before the sun starts to burn.

On my way to the beach, I passed a local preschool. To a European eye, it didn’t look like a school at all. It looked more like a small temple: a large Buddha statue in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by modest buildings. The gates were open, so I stepped inside quietly.

Not far from the statue, a tuk-tuk was parked. Inside sat a local man, eyes closed, hands folded in prayer. I was barefoot myself and tried to pass him as quietly as possible, not wanting to interrupt his early-morning ritual. I stopped in front of the Buddha statue and simply stood there.

A few moments later, I noticed the man standing beside me.

He asked politely, “Do you know anything about Buddhism?”

I answered honestly.“I know a little — but not much.”

“Would you like me to explain it?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”

He explained, in his limited English, that Buddhism views existence as a continuous flow. Rebirth, he said, doesn’t follow a fixed or predictable form. It can take many shapes, depending on your karmic footprint — the accumulation of choices and actions over time. Because of that, no form of life is considered superior.

“We treat all beings with respect,” he said, “because we don’t know who they were — or whom they may become.”

Then, surprisingly, he asked me to repeat a chant after him, spoken in the local language, which I believe was Sinhala. I can’t repeat it here as I did not understand a word he said. I only know one word in Sinhala: thank you (stutiyi, pronounced stuti). It’s the one word I always try to learn in whichever new country I travel to. Still, I listened closely and repeated each sentence after him as carefully as I could.

When we finished, he looked straight into my eyes and said:

“Do not worry. You will get to your Nibbāna.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I stood there, completely stunned.

As I walked down from the school grounds toward the beach, the feeling didn’t fade. My mind kept circling the moment.

What just happened?

Why did he come to me?

Why did, on the very last morning of 2025, something like this happen?

Did I look particularly unsettled in his eyes? Maybe... Barefoot, in my sleeping shorts, definitely not looking like a “regular tourist” at that hour.

But still — why?

Was this the universe’s way of sending me a message on the last day of the year?

The word Nibbāna, which I had never heard before, afraid I’d forget it, I quickly ChatGPT-d it up. I learned that Nibbāna is not a thing. It’s the absence of grasping. It’s often described not by what it is, but by what it’s free from. It doesn’t mean withdrawing from life. It means detaching from suffering. A complete cooling of the mind — when nothing inside needs to fight, cling, or run anymore.

The last few years of my life have been turbulent. Personally. Professionally. Financially. Nearly every area imaginable was shaken. I made it through, though, with something shifted. The pieces of my life were pulled apart and slowly put back together differently. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly - the same being, yet completely transformed.

I’m deeply grateful for this trip to Sri Lanka at the end of 2025. I almost canceled it at the last minute as circumstances changed. Although I still decided to let life carry me, and go with it. When I stepped onto the plane, the only thing I knew for sure was my tickets — three layovers, 36 hours door to door from home to my hotel in Mirissa. Everything else was yet to be seen.

Now, in 2026, I feel profoundly grateful.

I’m grateful

• for the people who were waiting for me there — a lot of giggles, free from the usual busy schedule, just enjoying the days at ease, and in presence;

• for the weather — 29 degrees during the day, 27 at night - close to perfection for me;

• for the food — the freshest seafood imaginable, especially my absolute fav - raw tuna;

• for the ocean — warm, powerful, unpredictable;

• for the animals and birds I was lucky enough to encounter;

• and for myself — reshaped, perfect in my imperfection.

  
  

Thank you, 2025.

Thank you for all that came before.

I move forward — humbly, openly, and without resistance. Toward my Nibbāna.

A Note on Nibbāna

Nibbāna (Pali) is the ultimate goal in Buddhism. It represents the extinguishing of greed, hatred, and delusion — the end of suffering (dukkha) and the cycle of rebirth (samsāra).

It is not a place. Not heaven. Not nothingness.

It is liberation. A mind no longer shaped by suffering.

And sometimes — quietly — it shows up in moments we never planned.

Peacock, Mirissa

Surfers Beach, Mirissa